Copper
by bronwe-iris
Summary: A Marble Hornets fic: He can't believe Alex *shot* him. He's sitting on the ground of Benedict Hall, pressing his hand to his side, and he knows he's got no where to go. But then someone comes. Someone he wasn't expecting. "...Tim?"


"Alex? _Alex?_"

Jay knows that Alex is beyond reasoning. He knows that Alex is filled with too much fear and blind rage that nothing Jay says could even begin to chip away the casing of terror and oppression that that thing had tormented Alex into.

And yet he tries. Maybe because Jay wants to believe that there's something left of the man that had been one of his few friends in college. Or maybe it was just because it was all he could stutter while looking into the barrel of a gun.

Alex does not say anything. He does not show one sign of recognition.

And then he pulls the trigger.

Before Jay could even think of throwing himself to the side, a shot rings out. Then an explosion of pain erupts in Jay's side. He grunts at the impact, stumbling backwards. Shock shoots through him. _Alex shot me! He actually fucking shot me! _Fire rips though his side, screeching up through his veins and muscles. He wants to scream in the agony, but when he mouth opens all that comes out is violent coughing. Each cough sparks another jolt of pain; they become more and more gurgled, and Jay starts to taste copper on the back of his tongue.

Jay glances up and sees Alex stalking towards him. Fear overcomes the pain for a split second, and with a sudden rush of adrenaline, he stumbles into a side room, slamming the door shut behind him. But the moment he imprisons himself in the room a new wave of horrible pain sweeps over him, along with a sudden weariness. He backs into a wall, and feels his body slide to the dusty ground.

Someone is pounding on the door, but the thuds are muffled. A buzzing is in Jay's ears, and a continuous sharp pain courses through his head. He feels like there's fire all over him – all _within _him. He presses his hand to his side, and is distantly aware of a warm, sticky substance leaking through his fingers and over his hand.

The buzzing in Jay's ears grows louder. He coughs harshly, and blood sprays from his lips. An incredible wave of dizziness passes over him, followed by a heart-stopping coldness. He lifts his head slightly and then terror fills him.

It's in the room with him.

Jay would have gasped in fear, but when he opens his mouth all he can manage is another cough that really is more a gurgle than anything. He tries to back away from the thing, but he is already pressed against the wall. There is no where to go.

_Please no. Not after all this time. Not now._

It tilts its head slightly, as though studying Jay for a moment. For a fleeting moment, Jay wonders what the thing thinks of him, pressed against a crumbling wall and covered in his own blood. So many years of running…and all he can do it sit in petrified pain. The thing's arm moves slightly at its side, as though getting ready to reach for him.

The door crashes open. Jay's body is jolted from the impact of the door slam, and he nearly falls over. His free hand slaps to the floor, keeping his body upright while sending a horrible shot of pain through his body at the same time. This time a cry does escape him; it sounds ragged and pathetic to Jay.

He looks back to where the thing is standing. It's there for a second longer, still watching Jay. But then it flickers, like a broken projector's image, and the next second is gone.

Jay is aware of a new presence at his side, but he can't turn his head to see who it is. It's too much effort. And he feels so tired.

"Oh God. No, no, no, no, no. Please, God, no. Jay, can you hear me? _Jay?_"

For a second, Jay is confused. That doesn't sound like Alex's voice.

"Jay! Come on, look at me!"

"Tim?" Jay tries to say the name, but it comes out slurred and gurgled. Blood leaks from between his lips, trickling down his chin.

"Yeah, it's me, buddy. It's me." Tim's voice sounds desperate, scared. Jay can't imagine what Tim could be sacred about. That thing is gone; it can't hurt him.

"Oh God. This is….I don't…_shit_…I don't know what to do…" Tim is muttering to himself, but Jay can somehow still make out the words. Which is odd – and slightly unfair – to Jay, since he can barely form any words for himself.

Jay can hear some rustling, then Tim's voice again. It's getting hard to sort out everything in his head; everything seems so hazy and clouded in pain.

"Jay, here. Just…I need to…"

Jay feels something touching his hand that's pressing against his wound. He gives a small cry of fear, then a whimper of pain as he twitches away from the alien contact.

"Jay, it's okay, I promise. I need to press my shirt against the wound. It'll work better than your hand. Come on, Jay…"

With an extreme amount of effort, Jay manages to turn his head slightly to the left. There is Tim, kneeling by his side and looking more worried and distraught than Jay had ever seen him. There's a strange wetness on his cheeks, and Jay realizes that Tim is crying. "Tim…?" Jay murmurs.

"Yeah, I'm here, Jay," Tim says, looking into Jay's face. He tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace to Jay. "Jay, I need you to move your hand. It's in the way – I need to press my shirt against the wound." Tim lifts up his right hand slightly; he's holding his flannel shirt he was wearing, leaving himself in his white under t-shirt.

"Hurts…" Jay wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut against another wave of pain. It just won't stop coming. "I'm…I'm scared Tim…"

"I know you are. But it's going to be okay. _You're _going to be okay. I promise, Jay." But Tim's words are shaky, and he chokes on the last sentence. Jay doesn't believe him. But Tim is not looking at Jay anymore; his attention has diverted to Jay's wound and the shaking hand covering it. His own trembling hand reaches out, touching Jay's gently. Jay flinches away in pain.

"Don't…" he whispers. He coughs again, and more blood splatters from his lips.

"I have to," Tim says. His voice sounds apologetic – or upset. Jay can't decide which. Tim's fingers wrap around Jay's, and he gently pulls Jay's hand away.

Immediately Jay cries out. Fire rages through the wound, and the flow of blood surges through the opening of torn flesh and ripped cotton, fast and thick. Tim quickly presses his shirt against the wound; it takes only a few seconds for the shirt to become soaked.

"Jay, we have to go. I left my phone in the car. We have to call for help."

But a deep coldness has seeped into Jay's bones. He feels so exhausted, more than he ever has in that past four years. If Tim would just let him sleep…just for a little while…

"Jay! _Jay!_"

Jay's head lolls to the side, his eyes drooping. Tim's hand shoot out, grabbing Jay's shoulders and giving him a rough shake. "NO, Jay! _Don't you do this to me!_"

Jay's eyes flutter open for a moment, unfocused and hazy.

"Fight it, Jay! _Come on!_"

Jay mumbles something, but Tim cannot make it out. Tim curses under his breath, fresh tears leaking from his eyes. Quickly, he slips his arms beneath Jay's shoulders and knees. Before he stands, he suddenly notices Jay's camera out of the corner of his eye. Every fiber of his being is telling him to forget it, to just _go_. But he knows how important the camera to Jay, and even now, despite the seriousness of the situation, he just can't bring himself to leave it. Slipping the camera's holding strap onto his hand, he gets to his feet, carrying Jay in his arms.

It takes far too long to get to Tim's car. By the time they get there, Jay is completely unconscious. Tim lays him in the backseat, and then lunges for his phone lying on the driver's seat. He punches in the numbers viciously, his breathing heavy as the phone rings.

"911 what's your emergency?"

"Please, hurry! My friend – he's been shot. He needs help! He – he's dying." Tim's voice breaks on the last word.

"What is your location?"

"79 South Creek Road. We're in front of a building – Benedict Hall."

"Okay, we're sending someone right now. Now, what's your name?"

"T…Tim"

"Okay Tim, is anyone else with you?"

"No, just my friend."

"Where is he shot?"

"In the left side…he's lost a lot of blood."

"Are you applying pressure to the wound?"

Tim nearly curses into the phone; the shirt is still over the wound, but Tim had neglected to keep his hand on it. He quickly presses his hand over the wound; there is no reaction from Jay.

"Yes."

"Okay, good. Your friend, is he conscious?"

"No, he passed out about a few minutes ago."

"How long ago did he get shot?"

"I don't know…fifteen minutes maybe? I…we weren't near a phone. I couldn't leave him to find one…I…I didn't know what to do…" It seems important to Tim to explain why it had taken him so long to call for help. Why hadn't he been quicker in getting Jay out of Benedict Hall?

"It's okay, Tim. I need you to stay calm for me, can you do that? Just stay on the phone with me. The paramedics are on their way."

Tim nods, fresh tears brimming in his eyes. The dispatcher keeps talking, but Tim is only half-listening at this point. He stares at Jay, willing the thin chest to keep rising and falling. Every moment it gets harder to detect the movement.

_Please Jay. Come on, buddy. Don't you leave me. Don't do this._

_Jay._

_Please._


End file.
